Adventure Magazine Cover — page 119: what you’re looking at

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Black pressed upon them generous entertainment. They ate and drank like gentlemen who found good appetite in heretic-hunting. Not till they were full and content did Sir Ralph approach his business. He expounded vigorously the iniquities of Mr. Rymingtowne: how he practised white magic and black; how he had built himself secret places in which to conceal _his ugly mysteries; how all the people cowered before him as a man of more than human power; and how he used his ascendancy to make them heretics by ever casting scorn on the Catholic faith and Holy Church. ‘‘Such a man is of all infidels most dan- gerous and devilish,” said Dr. Oscott, and looked at his secretary. “T think the man is his reverence’s cousin?” said Mr. Saunders meekly. ‘Therefore I have hesitated long to inform against him. Perhaps too long. And now it is with a heavy heart.” “Your words, sir, do you honor,” said Dr. Oscott. Sir Ralph bowed. “Even while we speak he is to be seen in his observatory seeking magical aid of the stars.”’ ‘“‘IT might perhaps see him, sir.” Saunders rose. ‘‘Nay, gentlemen, but I fear you are too weary. On another night were better. Mr. “We will go,”’ Dr. Oscott said. Sir Ralph led them on to the down, not without anxieties. Mr. Rymingtowne might Choose that night to stay at home. Such callousness was in his character. But a light twinkled from the windmill. As they came up, they saw a man move between them and the pale crescent of the new moon. Mr. Rymingtowne was on the roof with his telescope. “So,” Sir Ralph pointed and whispered, “so he will sit with his magic glass and then go in and all night through work out his spells by what it hath shown him.” Dr. Oscott peered up at the motionless astrologer. “I like it not when a man would see more than is granted to men’s eyes,” he said severely. Sir Ralph shook his head sadly. very spirit of Satan.” “Oh dear, oh dear, you make me crawl all over!”? The whine seemed to come out of the ground. The good gentlemen started aside to see the silly shepherd heave up his ungainly bulk. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t, you “The Magic 875 shouldn’t! And me just dreaming of rabbit- pie and all!” Sir Ralph explained in rapid undertones. “A shepherd lad, a very simple, honest fel- low. If you would know how the man is feared, no better witness.” Dr. Oscott nodded. “Come, my lad, why so frightened?” The shepherd giggled. ‘‘ Why now,I ben’t sure what his reverence be wanting me to say.” ‘“The truth,” said Mr. Saunders. “‘Speak out, Diccon lad. What does Mr. Rymingtowne do there?” The shepherd gaped. ‘I dunno.” “Nay, then why do you fear him?” “Aw, Sir Ralph, you know that, to besure.”’ “‘Come, my lad, tell us!” Dr. Oscott insisted. “Why, Sir Ralph here wants to be rid of him.” Mr. Saunders, the stolid secretary, put his hand on his master’s arm. ‘There was a moment’s silence. Then Sir Ralph cried angrily: ‘Come, sirrah, what was it you said to me of magic and devils?” “Magical devils?” the shepherd drawled stupidly. ‘‘Devils, says you to I?” ‘“‘Beshrew thee for a fool!” cried Sir Ralph. ‘Come, gentlemen, the poor lad is dazed! But you have seen,” he waved his hand at the astrologer. ‘Quite,’ said Mr. Saunders. They went back to the rectory and Sir Ralph was voluble. NOW when they were gone the shepherd lay down again and with his chin on his hands, chewing a scrap of thyme, waited wakeful till Mr. Rymingtowne came down the hill home- ward, stout stick in hand, sword at side. In a little while the silly shepherd rose up and made for the windmill. The door was on the latch—there were no locks on Assyn- ton doors then—he entered and climbed the ladder to the upper room, moving in the dark with an assured ease that proved him no stranger there. He put his hand on the tinder-box and lit a candle. In a moment’s glance he found papers covered with figures and signs. He stuffed them into his bosom, blew out the light and was gone, swift and adroit as he had come. ‘Then he slept happily till dawn. In the early morning he left his dog with his sheep and came down the hill whistling COmiclbook CO